Mission Creep
by Bea Ryan
Summary: Jason wants to be a good man, but he keeps screwing it up. Charlie wants to trust him, but he keeps giving her reasons not to. (Fix-it fic. I've always felt their apparent feelings for each other didn't align quite properly with what we saw of their relationship.)
1. I Wish You'd Told Me

Jason cradled Charlie in his arms as he leaned back against the tree and tried to comb the bits of leaves out of her hair with his fingers. "I wish you'd told me," he said.

She sighed and shifted her hips, trying to find a comfortable spot on his lap, and rested her head on his shoulder. "Told you what, Nate?"

Jason closed his eyes and tried to swallow the guilt. He hadn't known. He told himself he wouldn't have if he'd known. They were just supposed to be making out a little. He was trying to get the target to trust him. To lead him to Matheson. She was the one who'd put her hands under his shirt. He'd just followed her lead. She hadn't stopped him when he'd taken off hers. She'd let him touch her, rose up to meet him as his hands and his mouth made their way over her skin. He was never this lucky. He'd even stopped and asked, "Yeah?" as he slid off her pants. She'd nodded, and he'd wondered if this was the best day of his life. He could still hear the little sounds she'd made, feel the hot pants of her breath on his skin and the prick of her fingernails as she'd pulled him closer. She'd made him feel like a man, one who knew what he was doing. God, what had he done?

"That you were a virgin," he said. "If you've saved it this long, you should have saved it for someone special."

"Like those guys in the airplane? Yeah, that would have been special."

"I just wish you'd told me."

She lifted her head, and he stared at her lips to avoid eye contact. They looked a little swollen, darker red than before they'd spent so long kissing, but her sated smile made his pride surge.

"I forgot you didn't know," she said. "Danny, my brother, is the only boy close to my own age in our village. I wasn't so much saving it as lacking options. Then you came along and saved me like some hero in the night. When we met up with you again, it just seemed kind of fated and romantic."

Jason sighed, "Yeah. Romantic. Like Romeo and Juliet."

"Didn't they both die?"

"Yeah," he said, pulling her closer. "But you're not going to. I'm going to do everything I can to take care of you." He knew the promise was likely to cost him, but he intended to keep it. She'd made him feel like a man. She thought he was a hero. He owed it to her to act like one.


	2. Almost Friends

Jason pinned the target, a female Monroe Militia Lieutenant, age 22, against the wall and patted her down.

"Nothing personal, Kayla," he said. "I'd just rather not die today."

"Aren't you supposed to be dead already?" she asked. She didn't bother to hide her smile and she shifted her weight, landing her breast fully in his hand.

Six months. It had been six months since that time in the woods with Charlie. Four months since he'd joined the rebels. He'd protected her, left the militia, followed her lead on missions, and she still held a grudge. Last week she'd told him they were "almost friends." Friends. Almost.

He held Kayla's hands with one of his and continued the pat down. Damn but she smelled good, like the soap everyone bought on Market Street in Philly. He leaned in for a sniff of her hair. Rose oil. He'd known it would smell that way. The Rebels thought enough mint would cover anything. The militia scrubbed. He hadn't considered camp showers and clean uniforms luxuries until he lost them.

He forced his mind back on the mission. "What's so important to Monroe that he sent a 20 man guard with this convoy?" he asked.

"Weapons," she said. "He's planning to wipe out Matheson once and for all."

He eyed her, trying to look hardened in front of a girl he'd known most of his life. "You gave that up pretty easy, Kayla."

She laughed in his face at that, and he squeezed her wrist a little more tightly than was necessary. When she flinched, he let go entirely. He felt the power shifting between them and didn't know how to get it back. Girls always threw him off, especially pretty girls who let him touch them.

Kayla's hand moved to the shiny buttons at the neck of her gray uniform and started undoing them. His eyes followed her fingers. He'd seen this routine before. He and Kayla had been an item for a while back when they were both in training. He wondered if she was wearing the gray tanktop that was officially part of the uniform or if she was wearing a bra, maybe with some lace and some lift, showcasing the breasts he could barely make out under the stiff fabric of her shirt.

"I'll give up more than that easily. Matheson and Monroe are finally sorting out who gets the Republic in their big, ugly divorce, and they don't care how many of us die in the process. Like everyone else right now, I'm taking my pleasure where I can get it, and, if I live through it, I'll serve whoever has the food in the end."

Jason swallowed hard and tried to remember his ideals, the reasons he followed Matheson instead of Monroe, but at the moment he couldn't see how they were that much different. Get the guns. Shoot the other guy. Keep the supply lines open and take as much as you can from the farmers without them sneaking up to kill you in the night. Same job, different leader. Hell, same leader. Matheson had done a guest lecture in his training class. That had been a good day. Everyone had gone to the bar afterwards, and after a day of patriotism and an evening of drinking, the night had been a lot of fun. Kayla had been a lot of fun.

Jason knelt in front of her and ran his hands over her hips and legs, telling himself it was just a pat down. He was looking for weapons. He wasn't feeling the curve of her ass, the inside of her thigh. When he stood up, he kept up the search. Her bra was pink with a lace edge. She could have anything in there. He needed to see. Needed.

"My eyes are up here," she teased.

His eyes traced upward and saw the shiny disk between her lips. Candy. If he'd planned his escape from the Militia better he'd have taken bags full of the stuff. The rebels considered honey a luxury. They didn't have the time or money to make treats and instead preached the nobility of self-denial. It would have rung less hollow if it had been a real choice.

She wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, hungry, sweet and slick. The disk slid over his tongue as her teeth pulled at his lips. Fuck it. She could do whatever she wanted to him. As long as he came back with the information no one cared what he did. If he didn't come back he doubted they'd even look for his body.

She must have sensed his surrender because she tugged at the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Cotton knit was weak. You had to *want* to get a militia uniform off, but the rebel layers peeled away easily. She shoved him against the wall and he felt the rough edges of the mortar and bricks in his back. She was demanding, hungry for something she knew he could give her. She wanted him. Damn it felt good to be wanted.

She tore at his belt buckle and slid a hand in his pants, palming him. "Not here," he begged. "Not in the alley. Take me home."

She jerked open the closest door and shoved him inside. It wasn't home, but it would do for a while.

XXX

He'd gone back to camp and given Miles a mission report. Six wagons of weapons guarded by 20 troops, half of whom would walk away the minute they got a better offer. An upcoming assault from Monroe. It was good information, useful and thorough, and Miles hadn't even said thank you before dismissing him with a nod.

Charlie was waiting for him in the hall when he exited the office. "That's a hell of an interrogation technique you've got," she said.

"What do you mean?" Jason asked.

"I followed you into town. I had binoculars on you the whole time."

Jason couldn't breathe. He felt like he'd been caught stealing and he pushed back against guilt he didn't think he'd earned. "I didn't have any reason not to."

"Is that what you tell yourself about me, too?" He saw her bottom lip tremble before she spun away from him and sped down the hallway.

He took a step forward, but a firm hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him back. Jason turned to face the assailant, ready for a fight.

"What the hell could you possibly say to her that is ever going to make it OK?" Miles asked.

Jason sagged as the weight of the truth settled on him. Apologies only got you so far. The only thing he could do at this point was be a better man and hope she noticed, but even if she forgave his sins, she'd never forget them.


End file.
